


Eight of Swords

by difficultheart



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Deal with the Infernian, Eventual Non-Explicit Smut, F/M, Fugitive!Prompto, I'm Very Bad at This Tagging Thing, Indiana Jones-esque Reader/Protag, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Otome-Style Fic, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Reader/Protag Uses a False Name, Reader/Protag is a Thief, Revenge and Terrible Choices: The Fan Fiction, Severely Non-Canon Compliant, Shades of Versus!Prompto, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-10 10:10:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/difficultheart/pseuds/difficultheart
Summary: Seeking an escape from the conquered lands of the Niflheim Empire, a lady thief makes a deal with the king of Lucis: retrieve the Royal Arms to secure an end to a seemingly endless war, and receive shelter in Insomnia. But branches of fate open up that stray off of the thief's path of revenge and threaten the bargain she has with the Infernian.Will the Thief follow the path of the Advisor, the Fugitive, the Shield, or the King?(A terribly self-indulgent otome/dating sim style fic inspired by Indiana Jones and Uncharted)





	1. Prologue

For most of your childhood in Gralea, your father had told you stories about Insomnia. Your family had fled the crown city when you were still an infant, so you remembered nothing of it. But your father carried a deep fondness for the city. Regaled with tales of shining obsidian halls in the citadel, towering, glittering skyscrapers, and fragrant gardens, you had imagined Insomnia as a beautiful, fairy-tale place. Even when the city fell, you had fantasized about returning to your birthplace, you true homeland.

Now, walking through the dim halls of the citadel, you could not help but be disappointed.

You knew the realities of adulthood often crushed childhood fantasies, but everything was just so… dismal. A year after the liberation of the city, large sections remained in ruins. Pieces of crystal from shattered chandeliers crushed under your heel, and a few streams of fading sunlight filtered through holes in the ceiling. Particles of dust hung suspended in the air, and the lingering feeling of death still hung heavy in the ruins. As you picked your way through rubble to the throne room, you ignored old bloodstains darkening the wallpaper. The last thing you needed was to lose your nerve over the ghosts of lives that had been lost within these dingy, dark walls.

The carefully wrapped parcel in your bag seemed to hum as you approached the main hall. You clutched the strap slung across your body, murmuring under your breath.

“We’re almost there. Wait for my signal.”

A soft touch to your shoulder eased your nerves. So far, your invisible shadow had done well to stay quiet. Another gentle brush of fingers against your own, and you took a deep breath, steeled yourself, and stepped out of the shadows.

The guard at the entrance startled at your sudden appearance. He raised his voice with his rifle. 

“Identify yourself,” he barked. 

You lifted your hands to show yourself as unarmed, putting on your best disarming smile.

“I go by Lovelace,” you drawled. “I brought the Trident of the Oracle for the king. He should be expecting me.”

A moment passed, and you tried not to sweat as you stared down the black eye of the barrel. Finally, he stood down, gesturing to the ornate doors.

“His Majesty has been waiting,” the guard said, and returned to his post without another word.

With a huff (honestly, it wasn’t your fault the Imperials had been so set on making your escape a nightmare), you brushed a bit of dust from your skirt and pushed open the doors. You let you companion slip past you, then stepped into the throne room.

King Noctis Lucis Caelum watched you from atop his throne. Any damage inside the high-ceilinged chamber had been repaired, the splendor of marble columns and fine fabric an eerie contrast to the ruin surrounding it. Black and red tapestries with ornate silver embroidery hung behind the king, his posture on the throne relaxed and easy. His Shield stood to his left, his royal advisor to his right. All three men regarded you with varying levels of suspicion. You cleared your throat. The sound echoed in the tense silence. 

“I apologize for my tardiness,” you said, bowing to the king. “The Imperials decided not to let my escape from Altissia go as smoothly as I had planned. It took a bit longer than expected to cross over into Duscae.” 

The king regarded you for a moment, dark blue eyes narrowed, before letting his expression relax into an amused smile.

“Honestly, I’m glad you even came,” he said. “Ignis was convinced you wouldn’t.”

You glanced to his right-hand man, Ignis Scientia, Advisor to the Crown. He frowned, disapproval clear on his face. You made sure your smile bared your teeth.

“I am many things, Majesty, but I am no liar. When I wrote that I would bring this treasure to you, I meant it.” You gestured to your bag. “May I approach?”

“You may,” the Shield, Gladiolus Amicitia, said. “Slowly.”

“Of course. Although I would like to note that I don’t bite,” you simpered.

None of the men laughed.

With a sigh, you approached the throne. Your heels clicked with every step up the marbles stairs to the right. Ignis stiffened as you brushed past him, a smirk on your lips. Kneeling before the young king, you opened your bag and removed the bundle. You had wrapped it carefully, but even through the canvas it vibrated in your hands. Slowly, you unwrapped the Trident of the Oracle, and presented it to the Chosen King of Lucis.

The king regarded it with an odd look, something stuck between fond joy and a deep sadness. The metal felt warm and alive in your hands under his gaze.

“You can touch it, Majesty,” you said, voice soft. “It is safe, I promise.”

Snapped from his thoughts, Noctis offered a sad smile. His hands shook as he took the trident from you. You kept your gaze lowered to pretend you hadn’t noticed. It seemed to glow in his grasp, a comforting warmth radiating from the throne that washed over you in waves.

“I think it is glad to finally find a home with you.” You stood, straightening the bag against your hip. “It grew quite restless once we reached Insomnia.”

“I… Thank you.” The king’s voice cracked, and he coughed before speaking again. “Thank you. I owe you a debt.”

Bowing again, you ignored the sharp eyes of the Shield and the Advisor as they watched for your response. 

“I’m just glad to be of service to the crown,” you said. “No debt required. If anything, I owe you for giving me an excuse to leave the Imperials’ grasp.”

“Well, a payment is still in order,” Ignis spoke up. “But I must still impress upon Your Majesty that I do not enjoy employing a—”

“Actually,” you interrupted, “I have a proposition to make.” 

Ignis looked as if he would rather be trampled by a behemoth. Gladiolus and the King were clearly amused, though the Shield tried quite valiantly to hide it. 

“Go on then,” Ignis said, voice strained.

Rocking back onto your heels, you ignored the irritated advisor and addressed the king.

“As you know, I have a particular set of skills. Though usually seen as unsavory, I am the best at what I do, and I know how to be discreet. I also know that many of the Royal Arms have yet to be liberated from the Imperials. Some have yet to be recovered at all. And there were a few rumors being traded among… certain circles that you would need them to truly win the war.” You placed a hand over your heart. “Allow shelter in Lucis for myself and my partner, and I will bring them all to you.”

“Absolutely not.” Ignis looked livid. “The Crown will not shelter a thief with no allegiance, who may switch sides at any given time.”

Your smile wavered, and you fought to keep your composure. “I may not have been raised here,” you said through gritted teeth, “but I was born here in Insomnia. By bloodright, that makes me a citizen.”

“She’s got a point, Iggy,” Gladiolus said, taking a step towards you. “And she did deliver.”

“Where is your partner?” Noctis asked. “I’m afraid we can’t risk an extraction.”

Finally, you had a chance to really show off. With a smirk, you stepped aside and gestured to a space next to you.

“No need, Majesty. I would like to introduce you to my companion, Prompto Argentum.”

A young man shimmered into existence next to you. Prompto held an enchantment in his hand, smile nervous. “Uh,” he said to the stunned men, “nice to meet you?”

Gladiolus no longer looked amused. You had not missed the dagger that slipped into Ignis’ hand from his sleeve, either. Stepping between Prompto and the rapidly fraying situation, you took the enchanted pendant from him and held it up to them. 

“Citrine,” you said, “imbued with an enchantment that lets the person wearing it slip in and out of sight. I used it to get you that trident. I thought it might impress you to see what tools we had at our disposal. I apologize if I caused you any alarm. Prompto is unarmed, I promise.”

The blond held up his hands behind you to demonstrate this, color draining from his face. Neither the Shield nor the advisor relaxed. In fact, Gladiolus looked like he was one second away from throwing you out the window. As high up as you were, you doubted you would survive the fall. 

“There’s no need to take up arms,” you said. You kept your voice low, hands out to your sides. The pendant swung from your fingers, the waiting enchantment sending warm tingles up your arm. Frankly, if this went down hill any further, you’d likely throw it on and pray Prompto could run faster than the citadel’s guards. “I swear on my life that neither of us mean you harm. I probably should have recognized that pulling the ‘suddenly appearing stranger’ act might not have gone over well.”

“Where did you get that?”

Noctis was the one to speak. He still looked relaxed, hands folded in his lap. Of the three men before you, he looked the least likely to send you to a sudden, early death. So you put on your most charming smile and tossed the pendant to him. He caught it, turning the gleaming stone over in his hands. 

“I made it,” you said. Dark blue eyes snapped back up to you, and you couldn’t help but let your smile slip into a smug smirk. “Basic enchanting, but it’s an important skill for a good thief to have. I’m afraid I can’t make anything more complicated than that. But I do have a few hair pins that can open any lock and a bell from a cat’s collar that alerts me whenever someone with violent intent approaches.”

“Who taught you?” Noctis looked intrigued, and you allowed yourself to relax just a fraction. As long as the king was speaking to you, you figured that you wouldn’t get your throat slit. 

“My father.” You glanced at Ignis, who had let his dagger slip back up into his sleeve. “I would have thought your advisor would look into my background.”

“You’ve done quite a good job of creating false identities for yourself,” Ignis said. “I must admit to being a tad bit impressed.”

“Well.” You gave the men a haughty smirk, pointing to the pendant in the king’s hands. “If you’d dug further and harder, you’d know that my father was a master enchanter. He taught me the basics so I could make tools for myself as needed.”

“She enchanted my pistol and my rifle,” Prompto spoke up. He’d stepped out from behind you, although his fingers clutched the hem of your blazer in a white-knuckled grip. “I’ve got good aim, but she made it so every shot is silent. Even if I do miss, I may get lucky and not have a target notice.”

Noctis looked between you and Prompto, an eyebrow quirked. You tried not to flush in embarrassment. Frankly, the two of you weren’t very imposing. Your companion smiled too frequently and let his nerves get to him enough that he had never been very intimidating, and as you were nearly a full head shorter than him, you were simply too small to look like much of a threat. It had been a blessing for you before, but now you were wondering if a few added inches and maybe a meaner glare would have helped sell the king on your services.

“Lovelace,” the king said. You wove your fingers together to hide the shaking of your hands as he stood and stepped closer. He was a full head taller than you, just barely taller than Prompto, but it was the aura around him that made you nearly flinch back from him. With a smile, he held the pendant out to you. “You’re hired.”

“I—what?” You blinked up at him. Prompto was similarly shellshocked. Although you had staked your lives on the king accepting your proposal, neither of you had really expected it to work. 

“Your proposal.” He chuckled, taking one of your hands and placing the enchantment in it before closing your fingers around the warm stone. “I’m sold.”

“Your Majesty, I’m not sure—” Ignis began. Noctis held up a hand, and the advisor fell silent.

“You’re the fourth person we contracted to attempt to find the Trident,” he said. “The previous three are all dead or imprisoned. Granted, they were all archaeologists or historians. Hiring you was a risk. But you followed through. I’ve heard that the Emperor himself has put a price on your head, but you still managed to make it here in one piece and without a tail.” The king placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m impressed. I don’t believe any of my ancestors ever had a thief on retainer, but few of them were in the same situation as we find ourselves. And, if nothing else, it would be nice to have an enchanter to commission.”

“I…” Words failed you. The infamous thief Lovelace, struck speechless from a bit of praise from a king. The King of Kings, yes, destined to bring about an end to the war that had been raging for decades. But you felt your cheeks color in embarrassment at your sudden lapse into a gaping fool. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

A gentle smile was his only answer, and you felt a lump form in your throat. Kindness was not something you had much experience with. Ducking your head, you stared down at your shoes as the king returned to his throne. Prompto tugged at your blazer, and you simply laced your fingers in his. If you were having a hard time with this, you knew that he was freaking out. You took a deep breath as the king spoke once more.

“I’ll have an apartment in the citadel readied for you and your partner,” he said. “You may have the rest of the evening to settle in. If you have any belongings to bring with you, today will likely be your last chance to retrieve them. You will report to me in the morning for a briefing on your next job. Gladio?”

The Shield stepped forward, towering over you. You felt even smaller than usual as he held out his arm to you. You stared. 

“If you’ll take my arm,” he said, clearly amused, “I’ll show you around the Citadel. Ignis will take Prompto, if that’s okay.”

No. No, it was not okay. As cool as you had been acting, Prompto had been your anchor. All your prior experience with royalty had ended poorly, and you didn’t like the idea of the only person you trusted being separated from you. But it hardly seemed you had a choice. The blond had already slipped his hand from yours, a shaky smile on his face as he stepped towards the advisor. Your friend was trying to convince you it would be okay, but the knots forming in your stomach said otherwise. Still, you gathered your wits about you and turned back to the Shield, glancing up at him through your eyelashes and giving him a coy smile. You slipped your arm through his, playing off your nerves as flirtation.

“I suppose that’s okay,” you sighed. “I can’t help but feel that I have the better guide.”

Ignis shot a sharp look at you, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling. Oh yes, you were very much going to enjoy messing with the advisor. Gladiolus chuckled, giving your hand a small pat.

“Oh, I’m much nicer than Iggy,” he said. 

Turning your gaze back to the king, you dipped into a curtsy. With Gladiolus’ arm firmly looped through your own, it was the closest you could get to a bow.

“Thank you again, Your Majesty. I promise, we will not let you down. Your kindness is not wasted.” When you rose, that soft, gentle smile graced the king’s face. 

“I know you’ll prove yourself,” he said. 

With that, Gladiolus turned and led you back down the stairs. You hadn’t realized how shaky your own legs were until you had to lean against the man for support. Your knees were shaking, and he chuckled once you’d made it to the doors.

“You played it real cool, you know.” He kept his voice low, head bent down towards your own. “But it’s okay to be nervous.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” you said. But given how you stumbled over your own feet, you had a hard time selling it. 

“Uh huh.” The Shield looked amused when you glanced up at him, and you glued your gaze to the floor as your face flushed. 

To his credit, Gladiolus did not bring up your shaking fingers or unsteady feet again as he led you down a hall that still looked recently repaired. His arm was warm and solid in yours, pace slowed so that you didn’t have to rush to keep up with his long strides. For all his reputation as a brutal, primal fighter, he was deceptively gentle with you as you walked beside him. You passed by contractors in the hall who were appraising parts of the citadel still in ruins, and you were quite proud of yourself for not dropping an earring you had enchanted to let you eavesdrop on conversations. 

“This hall leads to the king’s temporary quarters and office,” Gladiolus said, motioning to a hall to your right. Two guards flanked the entrance, rifles slung over their shoulders. “You’ll report there in the morning to receive your orders. One of the guards will lead you to the office.”

The tour was taken at a brisk pace, no nonsense, but slowly enough that you didn’t feel rushed. The excitement of the past few days was beginning to catch up with you, an exhaustion settling deep in your bones. Gladiolus noticed as he led you away from the kitchens and slowed to a stop. 

“You alright?” he asked.

“Fine,” you said. “Believe it or not, stealing a magical weapon from Niflheim and then escaping across the sea is a bit exhausting.”

The Shield chuckled, eyes crinkling as he smiled. It was a disarming thing, seeing such an intimidating man giving you such a gentle look. His arm flexed under yours, and you tried very hard not to notice the (very pleasing) way his muscles shifted under his (scandalously unbuttoned to his belly) shirt. Light from the setting sun slanted through the windows and made his eyes a very appealing shade of amber. You shook yourself. 

Gladiolus Amicitia, you decided, was dangerous. 

“You want me to carry you to your rooms?” he asked. He’d stepped closer to you, head dipped close, and you took a small step back. He was just… so much. 

“No,” you said with a sniff, ignoring your exhaustion to look as haughty as possible. “I am capable of making that walk.”

“You sure?” His grin was feral, eyes dark as he took another step towards you. He was testing you, you knew it, but you still inched back at his advance. “It’d be quite an entrance, getting carried around on the Shield’s shoulder.”

“Amicitia,” you snapped, “I assure you that I will be fine.” 

Discomfort growing under his gaze, you gripped the strap of your bag and lifted your chin. Back straight, shoulders set, you stared down the king’s Shield as he sized you up. After a moment, he backed off with a chuckle.

“It’s Gladio,” he said. 

“I’m sorry?” You blinked at him.

“Not Amicitia.” He smirked, then motioned for you to follow as he continued through the halls. “You can call me Gladio.”

Oh yes. Gladiolus Amicitia was very, very dangerous. You had to jog a bit to catch up to his long stride, although he slowed once you were next to him. 

“I think I can decide what to call you,” you said.

The man only smirked and led you down several sets of stairs to the residential quarters that hade been rebuilt. You nearly cried in relief when you saw Prompto’s messy blond hair further down the hall, but managed to reign yourself in. Instead, you ran towards him, ignoring Gladiolus’ chuckle as your friend turned and smiled at the sight of you. Prompto never failed to set you at ease, and you had to keep a tight grip on your bag to keep from taking his hands. 

“Long time no see,” he joked. 

“Ah, just in time.” Ignis spoke up, stepping up next to you. “Your rooms have not yet been prepared, but I can show you where you will be staying while working for the king.”

Ignis Scientia was a well-known consummate professional, always scheming and strategizing. But there was an edge to the way he looked at you. Something raw. Not quite hostile, but almost edging on anger. While Gladiolus had seemed to flourish in the sun, Ignis seemed to stick to the shadows. The dim lights of the hall threw the scars on his face into relief, pale green eyes unnerving as he watched you. 

You could not help but feel drawn to that haunted look in his eyes. 

“Uh… yeah.” Prompto spoke up for you. “That would be nice.” 

Ignis watched you for a moment more before turning and gesturing to a door to your right.

“Lovelace will stay here. Argentum will be in the rooms next to you.” He nodded to a door to the left of your new quarters. “I will provide you with keys once preparations have been finished. Do either of you have any belongings to bring into the citadel?”

“Not much.” You glanced at Prompto. “Just a bag for each of us. We can retrieve them ourselves.”

You and your companion had managed to get yourselves a hotel room a few hours earlier, your meager possessions barely even filling up a bag that had been slung carelessly onto your bed. For a brief moment, Ignis’ expression seemed to soften. But then that professional mask appeared once more, and he nodded.

“Very well. You may go to retrieve them and settle any other outstanding business.” Retrieving a (very expensive looking) silver pocket watch from his waistcoat, he flipped it open to take not of the time. “Be back at the citadel before nine. One of us will meet you at the entrance to bring you back here.”

Both of you nodded, Prompto’s fingers wrapping around your wrist. The presence of the two men was beginning to become suffocating. You gave them both a curtsy before hustling after Prompto, who managed to stay quiet the entire journey down to the steps of the citadel. Once you stepped out onto the street, a car rumbling past you, he finally burst.

“We did it!” Prompto burst into hysterical laughter, picking you up around the waist and spinning around. “We actually did it, Lovey!”

Laughing, you clutched at his shoulders until he set you back down on your feet. His face was flushed with joy, eyes bright as he smiled down at you. A lock of hair fell in his eyes, and you reached up to brush it back. 

“Honestly, I…” You shook your head, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder. “I never thought it would work. Please tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“You aren’t dreaming.” He rested his head against yours, and you closed your eyes, basking in the comfort of his presence. “We’re home.”

Home. What a strange concept. A place of your own, not a temporary shelter or a safe house to lay low in while trouble passed you by. You knew it was just as foreign to Prompto, who had been running all his life. You took a deep breath to ground yourself and work out the lump that had formed in your throat. 

“We can’t forget the price, though.” You pulled away, schooled your features into something approaching neutral. “Let’s get our stuff.”

“Right.” Prompto sighed. “Our stuff. Anything else we’ll need?”

“Mm, not that I can think of.” Waiting for another car to rumble past, you crossed the street and headed towards the hotel. “Let’s just get our bags and get back. I’m ready to sleep in a real bed again.”

Prompto laughed, catching up with you and lacing his fingers with yours as you navigated the crowded streets of Insomnia.

**

At ten minutes to nine, you made it back to the citadel. Prompto trudged behind you, both of your bags slung over his back. After taking one look at your slumped shoulders and hooded eyes, he had refused to let you carry your own belongings. Despite his own exhaustion, he hadn’t complained once on the walk back. Streetlights flickered as you approached the steps, traffic quieting down at the late hour. Few people were out on the streets still, and those that were kept their heads down and their steps quick. 

You did not expect to find the king himself waiting for you. 

King Noctis stood with one hand in the pocket of his trousers, the other holding an ornate pocket watch. Glancing up at you, he slipped the watch back in his waist coat and smiled as you approached. Prompto merely murmured a quick “see you upstairs” before waving away the king’s help and disappearing inside. Left alone, you found words escaping you once more. 

“It’s beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” he finally said.

Honestly, you hadn’t even noticed. You had been so focused on not getting run over by cars or pedestrians that you hadn’t taken the time to notice your surroundings. Stupid and foolish, given your job. But you took a moment to look up at the night sky and found yourself breathless. Even with the lights of the city, the stars shone bright above you. There were no air ships lurking above, no heavy industrial smog turning everything to a dark grey haze. The waning crescent moon hung above the citadel, and you finally took a deep breath.

“I’ve never seen the stars so clearly,” you breathed. “Is it always this beautiful?”

“Only on nights with good weather.” You felt the king step up next to you, arm brushing against your own. “It’s easy to take it for granted, when you’ve spent your entire life looking up at a sky like that.”

“I’ll have to admit to some jealousy.” Glancing at Noctis from the corner of your eye, you allowed yourself a moment to admire the way the moonlight made his pale skin glow, such a stark contrast against his dark hair and midnight eyes. His name, you decided, was quite fitting. “Stargazing was never much of a reality for me as a child.”

“Well, you can make up for it now.” The young king smiled, turning to face you. Although the expression was kind, it did not reach the shadows in his eyes. “You’ll have plenty of opportunity to enjoy looking at the stars here.”

“When you aren’t running me off to the four corners of Eos,” you joked.

Much to your surprise (and pleasure), he actually let out a soft laugh.

“I promise you won’t be running off too much. As much as I’d like to rush for this war to end, these things take time.” His smile faded, and the look of exhaustion that took its place aged him in a matter of seconds. “We know a few locations, but planning expeditions takes time. And I’d rather not risk exhausting you and potentially putting you in harm’s way.”

“You’ll find that I’m quite efficient, Your Majesty.” For a moment you hesitated. Then, throwing caution to the wind, you reached out and gently touched his shoulder. The king stiffened, and you quickly removed your hand, face coloring in shame. “My apologies. Prompto is usually comforted by touch, so I thought…”

“No need to apologize.” The king coughed, and you swore that you caught sight of a light flush to his cheeks before he turned back to the steps. “We should head for your rooms. The nights get cold, and we don’t want you catching a chill.”

You said nothing, but you made a mental note when the young king of Lucis nearly tripped and faceplanted when you very much accidentally brushed your fingers against his own when he bid you good night at your doorstep. 

Once inside your apartment, you went through your usual routine. The lock on the door was inspected to make sure it could not be broken too easily. You ran your fingers over seams in the doorways, cabinets, and mirrors to ensure nothing hid behind them. Furniture was overturned to check for any sort of enchantments or listening devices, except for the bed, which you slid under with a piece of amethyst you’d enchanted into a witch light of sorts. Once you had inspected every inch of your new living space and concluded that it was about as secure as it could be, you made a note of the furnishings and layout. A small living area with a loveseat, armchair, coffee table, and fireplace for the winters; a kitchenette with a very high quality gas stove and refrigerator and a frankly absurd amount of cabinet space; a spacious bathroom with a claw foot tub three women your size could easy fit in, silver fixtures, and black marble flooring and countertops; and finally, a bedroom with a four post bed, an obscenely large dresser, a writing desk, and a small vanity. It was too much. You had lived for so long in makeshift camps, dingy safe houses, and cheap motel rooms that such an extravagant space felt a bit overwhelming. You felt like an imposter, a cheap little toy thrown into the lap of luxury. 

On edge once more, you noted that Prompto had left the bag containing all of your clothing, tools, and few prized possessions on the bed. You were unsurprised. After all, you had supplied him with a few of your master lock picking hair pins. Unslinging your messenger bag from your body and tossing it at the foot of the bed, you shrugged off your blazer before speaking to the empty room.

“You can show yourself already. I’m not going to give you another accidental strip tease,” you said.

“I was wondering when you were finally going to address me.” A deep voice spoke close to your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin, but you didn’t flinch. It had been a very long time since he had been able to surprise you. “This is quite a nice place. Much nicer than what you usually stay in. I’m quite proud of you.”

Turning, you stared up into the burning eyes of Ifrit the Infernian, an amused tilt to his lips as he stared right back. His presence was already making the room uncomfortably warm, and you undid a few buttons of your blouse, fanning at your face. The god made no move to back away, so you did so instead. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you began to unlace your boots.

“Did you come here just to tell me that, or do you have another reason?” you asked, although you already knew the answer.

The Infernian always had a reason when it came to you.

“Am I not allowed to come and congratulate you on a job well done?” Ifrit’s gaze burned, and you tried not to let your discomfort show. “You gambled quite a bit stealing that little artifact and coming to Lucis. Perhaps all of your work is finally starting to pay off.”

Tossing away your boots, you sighed and faced the god again. His curled horns nearly touched the high ceiling, and smoke curled from the corner of his lips when he smiled. 

“Just say what you came to say,” you snapped.

The Infernian laughed, a deep, rumbling sound like a blacksmith’s bellows. It raised goosebumps on your skin, set your teeth on edge. 

“I only came to congratulate you,” he purred, “although I do have a few words of wisdom and warning as well.”

You dared not speak. Instead, you watched as he dug in your bag and took out a worn deck of tarot cards your mother had given you so many years ago. They were tiny, child sized in his large hands. You blinked, and he was seated at the writing desk, spreading the cards out in a fan before him. He picked one out, humming before he offered the card to you. On unsteady legs, you stepped over to him and accepted it.

“The Eight of Swords,” he said. A woman stood, blindfolded and bound, before an array of blades on the face of the card, the open sea behind her. “It represents being trapped, bound and blind.”

A fitting card. For a moment, you swore the woman on the card wore the same clothes as you, had the same short cropped hair. But when you blinked, she was a white clothed maiden once more. Biting back angry tears, you glared at the Infernian. 

“You don’t have to remind me,” you said, voice breaking. 

“Oh, but I do.” The god smiled, a cruel twist of his mouth that revealed needle-like teeth. “Tell me, which of them did you like the most? Was it the dashing Shield? Perhaps it was the haunted advisor, or his beautifully tragic king. And let us not forget your steadfast childhood friend.” Ifrit took the card from you, flipping it upside down. “When reversed, the Eight of Swords represents freedom. A way out. Acceptance of yourself and your sins.”

Before you could speak, the card was slipped back into the deck. Sighing, the Infernian leaned back in the chair and regarded you with hooded eyes. 

“This new branch of fate will tempt you, girl. I have no illusions about that. You have worked long and hard to return to the home of your ancestors. But do not forget who your allegiances will always belong to.” Another blink, and he towered over you, heat radiating from his skin and smelling of ash and decay. One taloned finger dipped past the open neckline of your blouse, drawing forth the pendant you tucked away at all times. A rough, opaline stone hung from a black cord around your neck, clutched by silver talons not unlike the Infernian’s. He caressed it with his thumb, and you shuddered as the action echoed deep within your being. “Your soul belongs to me. You are bound by that contract, so long as I see fit. My powers are only on loan to you so long as you behave. Take care to remember that, child.”

You took a deep, shaking breath as he released the pendant. Hastily tucking it away, you took comfort in the warmth of it against your skin. It was the only piece of your soul you had left, and the one thing that gave you the power you needed to follow through on promises you had made so many years ago. The Infernian smiled that cruel smile once more, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“I understand,” you whispered. 

“Good.” A nail scraped against the tender skin of your neck, drawing a thin line of blood just below your jaw. You flinched, and he bent forward to brush burning lips over your forehead. “Remember the price.”

The Infernian disappeared, leaving only the faint smell of smoke and a stinging scratch behind. Once you were certain he was truly gone, you undressed with shaking fingers and slipped under satin sheets. The lingering scent of fire clung to your skin and his burning eyes haunted your mind’s eye until you finally, blissfully surrendered to the dark embrace of dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND I RISE FROM INACTIVITY TO GIVE YOU... a way too ambitious project.
> 
> The idea for this fic is to have four "branches of fate" for each of the boys. Heartlines, In the Wind, Bloodsport, and The Last Romance. I'm hoping to keep chapters for each of these routes/branches as unique as possible, although there may be a lot of similarities in the beginning. I'm also aiming to post a new chapter for each branch at the same time, which essentially means four chapters at once. There will (hopefully) be regular updates once I fall into a rhythm with this fic but... I'm not always the best at updating.
> 
> Next time...
> 
> The First Assignment is Delivered, Prompto is Very Obvious, Why is Ignis so Bitchy, Gladio the Master Flirt, Noctis is Sad, Exposition is Shoved Down Your Throats, Reader/Protag Gets Some Backstory.


	2. Heartlines- Chapter 1: Heartlines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On the sea, on the sea and land over land_   
>  _Creeping and crawling like the sea over sand_   
>  _Still I follow heartlines on your hand_

A quarter to eight the next morning found you sitting on the floor outside of the king’s office, picking through a selection of stones that you had managed to… liberate from a shop in Lestallum. Despite your exhaustion, old habits died hard, and you had woken up before sunrise cursing yourself. Even after a long and indulgent bath (you had tried at least three different bath oils and were certain people could smell you coming down the hall), a good chunk of time getting lost on the way to the kitchens, and a hearty breakfast, you had arrived earlier than the king. There had been rumors that Noctis was very fond of sleeping, which now carried just a little bit more weight to them.

Honestly, though, you couldn’t complain. You had been itching to examine the stones ever since you had slipped them into your pocket a few days before. They were polished and gleaming, all of them shaped into perfect little orbs that fit in the palm of your hand. They would hold an enchantment well. You just needed to decide which one was your favorite. There was malachite, with its beautiful swirls of soft and dark greens, smooth and cold against your fingertips. Moonstone, with its shimmering pale blues and whites, reflecting the sun in soft shades against your skin. Gleaming, dark amber with just a few flecks of shadow, heavier than the others. And azurite, such a beautiful deep blue with waves of baby blue and dark green across its surface. There were others, of course. Bloodstone and lapis lazuli and fire agate and even your favorite, rhodochrosite. But those four fit the best in your hands, were the smoothest to your touch. You placed them on the floor before you, studying them. 

A flash of pale green eyes appeared in the corner of your mind, and you found your fingers closing around the malachite. The haunted look to the royal advisor had been creeping into your thoughts all morning, and you found yourself scowling down at the stone. It was cooler to the touch than the others, but the bands of color were just so beautiful. Your skin tingled, and although you were loathe to admit that the color of Ignis Scientia’s eyes had made your decision for you, you knew that the malachite would carry your enchantment perfectly.

“Have you been waiting long?”

Startled, you nearly dropped the stone, magic sputtering for a moment before the enchantment properly set into the stone. You opened your eyes and looked up to find the king smiling down at you, Ignis Scientia behind him. 

“No,” you said, quickly pocketing the other stones, “not at all. I know it’s still early in the morning, but I’ve always been an early riser.”

“Is that malachite?” It was Ignis who spoke this time. He had apparently set aside his displeasure at seeing you to admire the stone in your hands. “Where did you come across it?”

“Found it,” you said. He did not look convinced. You continued, regardless. “My father taught me a lot about stones. They’re one of the easiest things to enchant, so I use them quite frequently. Here. For you.”

You held out the malachite orb to Ignis, who eyed it suspiciously.

“It won’t bite,” you snapped. “I put an energizing enchantment on it. Hold it in your hand for a few moments, and it should put a pep in your step.”

“I…” The advisor blinked, then seemed to shake himself before gingerly taking the stone from you. It was much smaller in his hand, his long, elegant fingers turning it over and over. “Thank you. This is quite a kind gesture.”

“You always look tired in pictures,” you explained, “so I thought it might help.”

“It’s even the same color as your eyes, Specs,” the king laughed. Ignis’ cheeks colored a bit, and the younger man clapped him on the shoulder. “Looks like she’s got your number.”

Before Ignis could say anything else, Prompto skidded around the corner, breathing heavily and looking like a scolded puppy. 

“Sorry I’m late!” he panted. “I got here as fast as I could.”

You answered him with a glare before turning to the king. “Now that my partner is here, may we get this briefing over with?”

The king’s office was bigger than your childhood home. Portraits of kings and queens past hung on the walls, although a few spots were left empty. Tall windows showed a view of Lucis that had likely once been beautiful but was now a reminder of the heavy destruction to the city. Noctis sat at a desk in front of the windows, settling into a rather oversized chair and motioning for you and Prompto to take a seat in the chairs before him. Ignis stood just behind him and to his right, clasping his hands behind his back before going still as a statue. As the king retrieved a parchment map from one of the desk drawers and unrolled it, you observed the royal advisor from the corner of your eye. 

Why was he so aggressively against you being in the citadel? You could understand a concern for the king’s reputation if it got out that he had a thief on a leash, but you had a reputation for being discreet. Many people of higher status had taken out contracts with you, and you’d made sure none of them could be traced back to you. And the aggression seemed to go deeper than that. You’d heard that Ignis Scientia was a cold and cunning strategist, professional and deeply devoted to his king and kingdom. So his blatant rejection of you seemed uncharacteristic, given that his king had so quickly been friendly with you. You weren’t a threat to the king, not really. For all your history as a rogue with no strong ties to anyone or anything (discounting Prompto), Insomnia was your home. The last thing you wanted was to throw it back into chaos.

An elbow dug painfully into your side, and you snapped out of your thoughts as Prompto gave you another jab in the ribs. You started to turn to smack him when you caught a flash of green. Ignis had caught you staring. And he had stared right back. You froze. His expression was thoughtful as he looked you up and down, and you felt unbidden heat rise to your cheeks. His gaze was not cold or analytical. It felt as if it burned your skin, and you quickly looked back away. 

You did not catch the fleeting wistful look on his face before it faded back into careful neutrality.

“We have solid intelligence on one of the Royal Arms,” Noctis said. You turned your attention back to the king, who had spread the map out over the desk. It was beautifully illustrated in blue and black ink, creased from being folded and rolled so frequently. “Here, outside Lestallum.” He pointed to a location marked as the Greyshire Grotto. “We believe the tomb of the Wanderer is inside.”

“So I’d be looking for Swords of the Wanderer, correct?” you leaned forward, tucking hair behind your ears to study the map.

“Correct.” Noctis grinned, and you could have sworn Ignis almost looked impressed. “There’s no current Niflheim presence there, either.”

“But that just means there’s daemons, doesn’t there?” Prompto asked. You let out a hum in agreement. No Niffs meant some sort of ancient magic there that they hadn’t yet found a way to twist with their small sciences. “We can handle it, but a high daemon can be even more of a hassle than a bunch of Imperials.”

“The bigger issue,” you said, “is how you plan on getting us there. The Imperials have increased the number of patrols in that region. They won’t touch Lestallum, not yet. But if you remember, I have a pretty hefty price on my head.”

“If you may allow me, I have an idea.” Ignis stepped up beside the king, shoulders stiff and hands clasped behind his back. 

“Go right ahead, Specs,” the king said, smiling. The advisor shifted forward, finger tracing a main road on the map.

“Lestallum is a day’s journey by car, and while the roads between Insomnia and the Grotto are patrolled, the city itself is not. Your Majesty has a publicly known good relationship with the city’s leadership, and it would not be out of the ordinary for you to send one of your retinue there. I could travel there in the Regalia under guise of a diplomatic trip and smuggle Lovelace in the back.” His eyes flicked up to yours for a moment, an amused glint in them. “The trunk should be big enough for you.”

“Absolutely not,” you huffed. A part of you felt a bit overheated at the teasing look in Ignis’ eyes, but you ignored it because he wanted to _stuff you in the trunk of a car_. “I am a person, not luggage.”

“Where would I fit into this?” Prompto asked. He looked uneasy, and you took a moment to set aside your outrage and take his hand. “You didn’t mention taking me.”

The king and his advisor shared a look that made your stomach twist into knots. Your friend gave your hand a tight squeeze. 

“That’s because you won’t be going with Lovelace,” the king finally said. He at least looked apologetic about it. “I’d like you to stay here in the Citadel and do something else for me, Prompto. We’ve had security problems, and a talented sniper would help us out immensely.”

“No.” Prompto’s voice shook, his brow pinched in anger. His grip on your hand bordered on painful. “You can’t split us up.”

“I’m afraid it’s not up for debate.” Ignis spoke up, hands braced on the desk as he leaned towards Prompto. “The king will not be blunt about this matter, so I will. At this time, we still have no reason to trust you. For all we know, you will bring back a replica of the swords, or take them and run. As the royal advisor, I can be trusted to keep an eye on your partner. Gladiolus will be trusted to keep an eye on you here, Argentum. Depending on what happens on this assignment, we may trust the two of you to go out by your own. But you have no choice in the matter now.”

Panic churned in your gut and made your palms sweat. You couldn’t do this without Prompto. He had been by your side since you were eleven years old, his sharpshooting the only thing that had kept you alive on many of your jobs. Fourteen years of partnership, and they were going to tear him away from you. Your breathing came quick, and your vision blurred. Up against a daemon, the only person you could trust to have your back was him. 

“I…” Your voice broke, and you swallowed back your panic. It wouldn’t do to have an attack in front of the king and his advisor. You blinked rapidly, keeping your gaze down on the map. “I can’t—”

“You can trust me.”

Surprised, your eyes snapped up to Ignis. He had straightened behind the desk, those beautiful green eyes of his catching your gaze. But he didn’t look stern or look down his nose at you. His voice was soft when he spoke, low and comforting. 

“I may not have fought with you for years like Argentum,” he continued. “But I am a capable fighter. I still serve as needed in the Kingsglaive, and I have fought many an Imperial and several daemons during my time by the king’s side while we fought to reclaim Insomnia. And while I may not entirely agree with the decision to employ you, you are still one of the king’s retainers. As such, it is my job to ensure your safety and the success of the mission. It may seem illogical to trust me when I do not trust you. But you have my word that you will be safe in my company.”

You stared at Ignis. Words escaped you, in light of his little speech. He seemed genuine, and his expression had softened. Had your panic been that obvious? Embarrassed, you broke eye contact to stare down at your lap, releasing Prompto’s hand to lace your fingers together. 

“Lovey?” Prompto’s voice was small, and you knew that his confidence had been shaken by the plan presented. 

You took a deep breath, gathering your wits back about you. Less than a day, and you had already come close to having a damned panic attack in the king’s office. Looking back up, you turned to Noctis. His expression was calm, sympathetic. Of the three men present, you suspected that he understood being separated from ones you trusted the best. 

“Okay,” you said. When you turned to Prompto, you knew that that one word had broken his heart. This was a betrayal, going back on years of trusting only one another. But you had no choice. “I’ll come back safe, Prompto. I promise. You should be honored to be offered a job guarding the king.”

Prompto said nothing. He looked away from you, stared down at his shoes, and sulked. 

“Take the day to prepare,” Noctis said. You sighed and turned back to him. He offered another of his sad, kind little smiles. “Ignis will provide you with the information we’ve received. It’s mostly telegrams, a few handwritten reports, and a map of the area.”

“Would you give me access to the archives as well?” Standing up, you ignored Prompto’s angry silence and smoothed out your skirt. “If there are still undamaged documents detailing the area’s history, I would like to read those, too.”

“Ignis?”

The Advisor closed his eyes for a moment and let out a soft sigh, but still stepped around the desk. “If you follow me, I can show you to the archives, Lovelace.”

“Prompto?” The blond still wouldn’t look up at you, and you pinched the bridge of your nose. Twenty-five years old, and he still acted like a child. “Just… Never mind.”

You were going to tell him that he should join you, that you could talk things over. But you had lost your nerve under the gaze of the king and his advisor. Perhaps it would be better to let him have his hissy fit. Eventually, he would be back to his usual cheerful self. Perhaps you could enchant one of the other stones for him, something that would give him a bit of comfort while you were gone. It would only be a couple of days at most, and if you did enough research you could breeze right through the tomb. Noctis cleared his throat and said something to Prompto, but you did not catch it. Ignis had already walked out the door, and you had to jog a bit to catch up with his long stride. He was a bit shorter than Gladio, but his long legs made him equally as hard to keep up with. 

“Was there much damage to the archives?” you asked. You suspected that the walk to the stacks would take a while, and you didn’t want to spend all of it in awkward, tense silence. 

Ignis glanced down at you for a brief moment before looking ahead once more. “It was minimal, thankfully. We’re still making recovery efforts, but so far it seems that nothing of irreplaceable value was destroyed.”

“That’s good.” You smiled, eager to get to your destination. Although it was your agility and stealth that sold your skills as a thief, you had always found more pleasure in doing research on your marks. There was a certain comfort in scouring old books for information, sitting amid old parchment and piecing together information. “To be frank, the archives are what I’ve always wanted to see most in Insomnia.”

“Truly?” Ignis slowed and turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Truly.” You did a purposely bad impression of his accent, grinning when his brow furrowed in annoyance. “I’ve always enjoyed reading. And the citadel archives are legendary for holding knowledge that no other library in the world has. I promise I’ll keep my time today restricted to material on the Vesperpool and Greyshire, but I may abuse my access to the archives later quite frequently.”

“Well,” he said, “you and Gladio should get along quite well. He enjoys the archives, too.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t feel like a compliment,” you mumbled.

The royal advisor chuckled, and you swore that you could feel Ifrit’s pendant burning against your skin. Your heart skipped a beat, and you nearly stumbled over your own feet. His laugh was deep and charming, and it touched something in you that you could not quite place. It made his eyes light up, a dimple appearing on his right cheek. If you were really, truly honest with yourself, the sight was breathtaking. Ignis Scientia may have been a bit of a bitch to you, but he was an undeniably beautiful man.

“It’s very much a compliment,” he said. 

“Really? Because it feels like you’ve had a problem with me ever since I stepped into the throne room.” Astrals above, you regretted those words as soon as they left your mouth. Ignis stopped in his tracks, shoulders stiff, and you couldn’t look up at him. Picking a fight so soon after he’d shown signs of accepting you? How stupid you were. “I mean—”

“Continue down the hall. The sixteenth door on your left is the entrance to the archives. If the librarian asks, tell her that His Majesty has given you full access to the stacks.” His voice was clipped, cold and impatient. You couldn’t quite tell if you pissed him off or hurt his feelings. “I will come to your chambers at six in the morning tomorrow for the assignment. Please make sure to have everything prepared before I arrive.”

Before you could say anything else, Ignis Scientia was gone, steps echoing down the hall. His stride was quick and purposeful, and you watched his back as he left. The burn of the pendant turned to a dull warmth, and you pressed your hand over where it rested beneath your blouse. Foolish. Just as the advisor had been warming up to you, or at least hadn’t looked like he was barely tolerating your presence, you’d had to confront him. But you needed to know. Noctis and Gladiolus had both been so immediately friendly (or at least flirtatious in the Shield’s case), but there was still a simmering hostility to Ignis. Perhaps it was that blue blood turning up its nose at having a commoner, and a thief at that, rubbing elbows with the king. But it felt like more than that. You couldn’t say why, but you had a gut feeling that that wasn’t it. 

Ignis Scientia was hiding something, you were sure of it. And one way or another, you were going to pry it out of him. 

Gathering yourself, you raised your chin and strode down the hall. Even if you were shaken by the interaction, you had to put on airs. You were the haughty, proud thief Lovelace. You had bested the Niflheim Empire, stolen a key to their defeat from right under their noses. You were capable, and if you were still smarting from the advisor’s dismissal of you, you were not going to show it. You could find the damned archives by yourself.

(It took you three tries before you opened the correct door.)

The librarian didn’t even notice you as you slipped inside the archives, too busy with sorting out a stack of books. He also looked to be well into his later years, so you wouldn’t have been surprised if he simply hadn’t heard you. Keeping your steps soft, you slipped past the entrance and seating area into the stacks. Each shelf towered over you, filled with old tomes that smelled of faded leather and dust. Entranced, you reached out and skimmed your fingers over the spines. The covers were soft, worn from age and use. Still letting your fingertips brush against the covers, you walked down the shelves until you found the section you needed: folklore and history of Lestallum. Selecting a few basic overviews of the area to start, you winced at the creaking of their spines as you opened them. You made a mental note to mention rebinding some of the books in the archives to Noctis the next time you saw him before hunting for a reading nook. 

Several minutes later, you had settled into a nook by an abandoned section of the library. The sill of the window was large enough for you to curl up on, and you had snatched a few cushions from scattered chairs to pad the area. Sufficiently cozy in your self-made nest, you picked up a book on local legends in Duscae and began to read. Minutes turned to hours, and as you skimmed a passage about a monstrous snake rumored to haunt the grotto, your eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. You rested them for a moment.  
When you opened your eyes again, it was dark out. A lantern had been placed near your little nook, and the cramp in your back and neck said that what was supposed to be a brief rest had turned into a very long nap. The book was no longer open on your lap, but had been gently placed aside and bookmarked. A light blanket had been placed over you, and as you rubbed at your eyes, you realized that a tray with a warm kettle and a small plate of cookies had been placed on a low shelf next to you. Confused, you bundled yourself up in the blanket and shifted to reach for the kettle. It smelled of strong coffee, and when you poured it into a china mug on the tray and took a sip, you nearly moaned in delight. Ebony, your favorite. You snagged a cookie as well, nearly inhaling the desert as you reached for the book.

You paused. Several documents in neatly labeled folders had been laid out next to it, along with a rolled-up map and a stack of telegrams neatly tied together with string. Bringing the blanket to your nose, you inhaled deeply. Coffee, cologne, leather, and parchment. Smiling, you picked up the tied bundle of telegrams and began to sort through them. 

Perhaps Ignis Scientia had a softer side to him after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon time! I've always thought that Iggy would be the type to be really cold and distant when first being introduced to people, but slowly open up over time as he got to know and trust them. So needless to say, this route is going to be a slow burn. Thank you all for your sweet, wonderful comments and kudos! I'm so glad you're enjoying this silly little story.
> 
> Next Time:
> 
> Ignis is Still Kind of a Bitch, Reader/Protag is a Troll, Action Ensues, Maybe Ignis is More of a Badass Than You Thought, Time to Thaw the Ice King


	3. In the Wind- Chapter 1: In the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We have nothing, We really have nothing_   
>  _every day every say I walk on this street again with you_   
>  _If only I can walk with you again_   
>  _If only we can walk together again (I’d like it)_

A quarter to eight the next morning found you sitting on the floor outside of the king’s office, picking through a selection of stones that you had managed to… liberate from a shop in Lestallum. Despite your exhaustion, old habits died hard, and you had woken up before sunrise cursing yourself. Even after a long and indulgent bath (you had tried at least three different bath oils and were certain people could smell you coming down the hall), a good chunk of time getting lost on the way to the kitchens, and a hearty breakfast, you had arrived earlier than the king. There had been rumors that Noctis was very fond of sleeping, which now carried just a little bit more weight to them.

Honestly, though, you couldn’t complain. You had been itching to examine the stones ever since you had slipped them into your pocket a few days before. They were polished and gleaming, all of them shaped into perfect little orbs that fit in the palm of your hand. They would hold an enchantment well. You just needed to decide which one was your favorite. There was malachite, with its beautiful swirls of soft and dark greens, smooth and cold against your fingertips. Moonstone, with its shimmering pale blues and whites, reflecting the sun in soft shades against your skin. Gleaming, dark amber with just a few flecks of shadow, heavier than the others. And azurite, such a beautiful deep blue with waves of baby blue and dark green across its surface. There were others, of course. Bloodstone and lapis lazuli and fire agate and even your favorite, rhodochrosite. But those four fit the best in your hands, were the smoothest to your touch. You placed them on the floor before you, studying them. 

Prompto’s smile flashed in your thoughts, the way his eyes glowed in the morning sun. Without hesitation, you picked up the moonstone. Although it was much paler than his eyes, something about the soft, comforting shimmer made you think of your friend. Truthfully, you always thought of him, worried about him, but lately it seemed that idle thoughts of him invaded your mind more frequently. The stone was warm and familiar in your hands, as if it had always been meant to be snatched away by you for some wayward enchantment. You knew that your smile was fond as you rolled the moonstone in your hand, the beginnings of a charm effervescing in your veins.

“Have you been waiting long?”

Startled, you nearly dropped the stone, magic sputtering for a moment before the enchantment properly set into the stone. You opened your eyes and looked up to find the king smiling down at you… and Prompto Argentum skidding to a stop behind him, face flushed and smile apologetic. 

“No,” you said, quickly pocketing the other stones and shooting Prompto an annoyed glare, “not at all. I know it’s still early in the morning, but I’ve always been an early riser.”

“You were enchanting, right?” Prompto piped up. He had managed to step around the king and helped you to your feet. “What is it this time?”

“Moonstone,” you said. A bit peeved at his tardiness, you shoved it into his hands. “With an enchanted alarm that makes it glow when the sun rises. So hopefully you won’t be late next time.”

Over the years you had known Prompto, you had given him countless gifts. Little trinkets, really, like chocobo dolls you had snatched from carnival booths or chocolate bars your sticky fingers lifted from corner stores. He had kept the non-edible ones, even the little ones that were little more than garbage. But this was the first time you had given him an enchantment that wasn’t shooting or thievery related. His eyes widened as he cupped the stone in his hands, mouth agape. A blush was steadily rising in his cheeks that you ignored. 

If you didn’t know him better, you would have thought him hopelessly enamored. 

“Now that my partner is here,” you said to the king, who looked more than a little amused by Prompto’s speechlessness, “may we get this briefing over with?”

The king’s office was bigger than your childhood home. Portraits of kings and queens past hung on the walls, although a few spots were left empty. Tall windows showed a view of Lucis that had likely once been beautiful but was now a reminder of the heavy destruction to the city. Noctis sat at a desk in front of the windows, settling into a rather oversized chair and motioning for you and Prompto to take a seat in the chairs before him. As the king retrieved a parchment map from one of the desk drawers and unrolled it, you observed your friend from the corner of your eye. 

For the past few weeks, Prompto had been acting oddly. Normally he hung back when you went on a mission, positioned with his rifle on a rooftop or a hill to watch your progress. But on the Trident job, he had insisted on going with you. The blond wasn’t as skilled with hand to hand combat as you were, but he had been ferocious in taking down guards as you’d made your way through the base. His shots had been quick, accurate, and brutal. When a Niff had put a hand on you, he’d looked ready to dismember the man, but had settled for blowing his brains out instead. It had taken you nearly half an hour to wash all the gore from your hair. But more than that, he was more physically affectionate. He had always been quick to hug you or hold your hand, but the gestures had become lingering. And the affection felt different. It made your pulse speed up and your stomach tie up in knots. It was confusing, and frustrating, and you weren’t sure how to feel about these new developments.

A flash of pale, cornflower blue made you realized that Prompto was staring right back. He was more blatant, eyes wide and a pretty pink flush on his cheeks as he gaped at you. You fully turned to him, and he became even more flustered. He hadn’t caught your stare, thank the Astrals. You cleared your throat, jerking your head to the king. 

“We have solid intelligence on one of the Royal Arms,” Noctis said. You turned your attention back to the king, who had spread the map out over the desk. It was beautifully illustrated in blue and black ink, creased from being folded and rolled so frequently. “Here, outside Lestallum.” He pointed to a location marked as the Greyshire Grotto. “We believe the tomb of the Wanderer is inside.”

“So I’d be looking for Swords of the Wanderer, correct?” you leaned forward, tucking hair behind your ears to study the map.

“Correct.” Noctis grinned. “There’s no current Niflheim presence there, either.”

“But that just means there’s daemons, doesn’t there?” Prompto asked. You let out a hum in agreement. No Niffs meant some sort of ancient magic there that they hadn’t yet found a way to twist with their small sciences. “We can handle it, but a high daemon can be even more of a hassle than a bunch of Imperials.”

“The bigger issue,” you said, “is how you plan on getting us there. The Imperials have increased the number of patrols in that region. They won’t touch Lestallum, not yet. But if you remember, I have a pretty hefty price on my head.”

“I have a plan,” Noctis said, “that Ignis and Gladilous are going to hate. But I think it may work out the best for all of us.”

“Oh?” Now this was an idea that you could get behind. You leaned forward, a sly grin growing. “Tell me more.”

“Right now, Niflheim and Lucis are in a bit of a deadlock. We have some ongoing border skirmishes around Galahd, but otherwise we aren’t really openly aggressive to each other. My taking back Lucis threw them off their game, and High Commander Ravus going turn coat has hurt their forces significantly.” Noctis folded his hands on his desk. “The few journeys I’ve had to Lestallum and back have been relatively peaceful. Attacking me on my way to a city loyal to Lucis in what is technically a neutral zone would start a new wave of aggression that they simply don’t have the forces for right now.”

“So you’re untouchable right now,” you said. “At least in Duscae.”

“Essentially, yes,” he said. “I still have to be careful where I travel so they couldn’t simply make me mysteriously disappear. But if I travelled with you and Prompto in the Regalia, they wouldn’t be able to touch you.”

You considered that line of thought for a moment, tangling your fingers together and frowning at the map. “But declaring that I’m under your protection could also piss them off,” you said.

“Oh it would definitely piss them off.” He sat back in his chair, a wicked glint in his eyes. “But refusing them the right to arrest you would be worth it. It’s a power play, and one that Ignis is going to hate. In the end, I think it will be worth it.”

“They could send assassins for you after that,” Prompto said. He rubbed his hands together, brow pinched in thought. “Niflheim has stumbled a bit power-wise, but they still have agents everywhere.”

“I can handle an assassin,” the king said. “I’ve been handling them, actually. Gladiolus wanted me to split the two of you up and keep Prompto here with me so that he could take out any more Niflheim agents.”

“But you aren’t going to split us up… right?” The color had drained from Prompto’s face. You reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I have to be there with Lovey. I can’t…” He trailed off, staring down at your fingers laced in his. “I can’t lose her.”

Oh. You didn’t know why, but that had your heart skipping a beat. Prompto was your best friend in the world, the only person you trusted to have your back. He had saved your life dozens of times, and you had saved his. There was no one else in the world you’d rather have by your side. But the feeling bubbling up in your chest felt different than your usual affection for him. It was softer, warmer. It made you uneasy.

“I won’t split you up.” There was a knowing look on the king’s face, and you snatched your hand from Prompto’s. You were flushed with a sudden, strange embarrassment, like you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. “I’ll take both of you there. We’ll have to leave before sunrise if we want to avoid Gladio or Iggy stopping us.” He stood up, and both you and the blond rushed to do the same. “Take the day to prepare. I’ll have one of my Kingsglaive deliver you information we’ve received. It’s mostly telegrams, a few handwritten reports, and a map of the area.”

“Would you give me access to the archives as well?” You smoothed out your skirt, trying to quell your rising nerves. “If there are still undamaged documents detailing the area’s history, I would like to read those, too.”

“Here.” The king reached into a drawer at his desk and handed you a small map of the citadel. The detail on it was overwhelming, and you knew that you would be carrying it around everywhere with you while you weren’t out on an assignment. “This should help you navigate your way there. If the librarian there gives you any trouble, just let him know that you’re there with my permission.”

“Thank you, Majesty.” You curtsied, and noticed Prompto bowing from the corner of your eye as well.

“Please,” he said, “just call me Noctis.”

“I… um. Very well, Your—I mean, King Noctis.” You were flustered at the informality, not quite comfortable with it. Prompto’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. “Shall we meet you here before the sun rises?”

The king nodded, and with another quick curtsy you exited the room. Prompto followed at your heels, shoulders tense and lips twisted into a frown. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “We’re going out together, so it could have been worse, right?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “It’s nothing, Lovey. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m still going to worry about it,” you said primly. Unfolding the map of the citadel, you glanced over it before heading off in the direction of the archives. “You know that you can tell me anything, right?”

Prompto hesitated, and it felt like a slap to the face. You hid it as best you could, quickening your pace so that he lagged slightly behind you and couldn’t see your hurt expression. “I know,” he finally said. “But it’s really nothing. I hate when you worry about me.”

“You’re my best friend,” you said. You were proud of yourself for keeping your voice even. “I’m allowed to worry.”

“I’m not worth it.” His voice was soft, and you knew that he was getting into one of his moods again. No one beat themselves up as hard as Prompto Argentum. Although he was the best sharpshooter you had ever met, although he exuded an air of kindness despite all of the horrors he’d been through, he never considered himself enough. It enraged you, how little he thought of himself. 

“Shut up, Prompto Argentum.” You stopped and whirled around to face him. He nearly ran right into you, but managed to stop himself just in time. Poking him in the chest, you glared up at him. “You are worth it. You are worth everything. I would walk through hell and back for you, and you know that. It’s not out of some misplaced sense of pity. I care about you. So stop talking about yourself like you aren’t worthy of that care.”

A blush rose in his face that spread down his neck and to his ears. Promtpo simply stared at you as you poked him in the chest once more. 

“I. Care. About. You.” Each word was punctuated by a sharp poke against his chest. “Understand that, accept it, and move on. Okay?”

“I…” He covered the lower half of his face with his hand, wide eyed and flustered. “Lovey, you…”

“Shut up,” you snapped again. “No excuses. I want you to say, ‘I understand, and I will not say a bad thing about myself for the rest of the day.’ Come on.”

“I…” He sighed, deflating. “I understand, and I will not say a bad thing about myself for the rest of the day.” 

“Good boy,” you simpered. You reached up to pat his cheek, but found your touch lingering. You fingers moved up to brush through his hair, impossibly soft to the touch. Combing your fingers through his messy hair, you smiled. “Feeling better?”

Prompto did not say anything in response. Instead, he pulled you into his chest. The embrace was tight, but not suffocating. His arms wrapped around your waist, his face tucked into your neck. Your breath caught as you felt his sigh fan over the flushed skin. Ifrit’s pendant was burning hot against your chest, pulsing in time with your racing heart. After a moment’s hesitation, you returned the embrace, wrapping one arm around him while the other gently carded through his hair. Huffing a laugh against the junction of your throat and shoulder, you had to stifle a shiver when his lips brushed against your skin as he spoke.

“Much better,” he murmured. He squeezed you briefly, then pulled back a fraction. Hands still on your waist, you felt his fingers tighten as he searched your face for… something. You knew that you had a matching blush, pulse still quick as you let your hand drop to the back of his neck. His eyes darkened, and he leaned in. But he stopped at pressing his forehead to yours, eyes slipping closed. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” you breathed. If you leaned in just a fraction… No. You refused to let that thought go any further. Prompto was your best friend, had been raised on the streets with you. He was like family. You couldn’t think of him any other way. You pulled away from him, feeling a pang of regret when you felt his lingering fingers slide from your waist. Clearing your throat, you pointed to the doors behind you. “The archives are here. I’m going to go ahead and go inside. Do you want to take point with getting the rest of the info from the Kingsglaive?”

“You were always better with the research.” Prompto offered you a hesitant smile, hands shoved into the pockets of his waist coat. “I’ll leave you to it, and bring the rest of it to you later?”

“Sounds like a plan.” You reached out and gave his hand a brief squeeze before turning away and opening the doors to the archive.

The librarian didn’t even notice you as you slipped inside the archives, too busy with sorting out a stack of books. He also looked to be well into his later years, so you wouldn’t have been surprised if he simply hadn’t heard you. Keeping your steps soft, you slipped past the entrance and seating area into the stacks. Each shelf towered over you, filled with old tomes that smelled of faded leather and dust. Entranced, you reached out and skimmed your fingers over the spines. The covers were soft, worn from age and use. Still letting your fingertips brush against the covers, you walked down the shelves until you found the section you needed: folklore and history of Lestallum. Selecting a few basic overviews of the area to start, you winced at the creaking of their spines as you opened them. You made a mental note to mention rebinding some of the books in the archives to Noctis the next time you saw him before hunting for a reading nook. 

Several minutes later, you had settled into a nook by an abandoned section of the library. The sill of the window was large enough for you to curl up on, and you had snatched a few cushions from scattered chairs to pad the area. Sufficiently cozy in your self-made nest, you picked up a book on local legends in Duscae and began to read. Minutes turned to hours, and as you skimmed a passage about a monstrous snake rumored to haunt the grotto, your eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. You rested them for a moment.

When you opened your eyes again, it was dark out. A lantern had been placed near your little nook, and the cramp in your back and neck said that what was supposed to be a brief rest had turned into a very long nap. You groaned and started to stretch, but felt something weigh down your left hand. Still bleary from sleep, you yawned and glanced down to your left. Prompto had settled down beneath you, back up against the wall. At some point, he had taken your hand (or you had taken his), and your fingers were tightly intertwined. 

Heart in your throat, your first instinct was to yank your hand out of his. But Prompto had fallen asleep, head resting against your hip. He looked so peaceful, you didn’t dare disturb him. Relaxing back into the nook, you leaned over to get a better look at his face. If you were truly honest with yourself, you found Prompto terribly attractive. His face was soft and open, always friendly and welcoming. His pale skin was liberally covered in freckles, golden blond hair soft and almost constantly messy. You had joked with him once that his cowlick looked like a chocobo butt, and he had pouted for nearly a week. With his eyes closed, you couldn’t see his beautiful blue-violet irises, but you had always found them magnetic.

More than his looks, you were drawn to him as a person. Prompto had gone through hard times with you, been shot at and hurt on multiple jobs. You used your free hand to touch his shoulder, where you knew a jagged scar was from a knife he had taken for you. While you had put up a distant, sarcastic front in order to deal with the things you had seen, Prompto has stayed kind. He only knew how to wear his heart on his sleeve, and had been a constant source of comfort for you after… everything. You reached up to touch the pendant underneath your blouse. It was still warm, although it was no longer burning painfully as it had been when he held you.

In his lap were the documents the king had promised you, and you managed to shift enough to retrieve a neatly labeled folder of field reports without waking him. Keeping your fingers tangled in his, you angled the reports towards the lamplight and read through them, although you doubted you would remember much of what you read.

The entire time you sat in the archives, Prompto sleeping soundly next to you, you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t falling for your best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is sunshine boy's route! I love Prompto dearly, but this route is just going to be... angst. Angst and mutual pining and everyone else wanting to kill themselves because oh my god why are these two so oblivious. Thank you all so much for your sweet, wonderful comments and kudos! I'm glad you're all enjoying this silly little story.
> 
> Next Time:
> 
> Prompto is Still Painfully Obvious, Reader/Protag is Conflicted About Wanting to Bang Her BFF, Action Ensues, Maybe the Ray of Sunshine Can Be Deadly Too, Please Save Noctis the Sexual Tension is Killing Him


	4. Bloodsport- Chapter 1: Bloodsport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If I fall short, if I break rank_   
>  _It's a bloodsport, but I understand_   
>  _I am all yours, I am unmanned_   
>  _I'm on all fours, willingly damned_

A quarter to eight the next morning found you sitting on the floor outside of the king’s office, picking through a selection of stones that you had managed to… liberate from a shop in Lestallum. Despite your exhaustion, old habits died hard, and you had woken up before sunrise cursing yourself. Even after a long and indulgent bath (you had tried at least three different bath oils and were certain people could smell you coming down the hall), a good chunk of time getting lost on the way to the kitchens, and a hearty breakfast, you had arrived earlier than the king. There had been rumors that Noctis was very fond of sleeping, which now carried just a little bit more weight to them.

Honestly, though, you couldn’t complain. You had been itching to examine the stones ever since you had slipped them into your pocket a few days before. They were polished and gleaming, all of them shaped into perfect little orbs that fit in the palm of your hand. They would hold an enchantment well. You just needed to decide which one was your favorite. There was malachite, with its beautiful swirls of soft and dark greens, smooth and cold against your fingertips. Moonstone, with its shimmering pale blues and whites, reflecting the sun in soft shades against your skin. Gleaming, dark amber with just a few flecks of shadow, heavier than the others. And azurite, such a beautiful deep blue with waves of baby blue and dark green across its surface. There were others, of course. Bloodstone and lapis lazuli and fire agate and even your favorite, rhodochrosite. But those four fit the best in your hands, were the smoothest to your touch. You placed them on the floor before you, studying them. 

Damn it all, you had not been able to get the Shield out of your head. All morning you had been remembering the warm color of his eyes, the flattering tan of his skin, the way his muscles had flexed under your fingers when you took his arm… The amber was in your hand before you realized, the same alluring shade of Gladiolus Amicitia’s eyes. Face heating in embarrassment, you shook your head to rid yourself of any more thoughts of the man. He was dangerous, and charming, and very handsome and fit and you nearly threw the amber against the wall in a fit of rage at yourself. You were no school girl with a crush. With a huff, you closed your eyes and channeled the warm magic pooling in your chest into the stone.

“Have you been waiting long?”

Startled, you nearly dropped the stone, magic sputtering for a moment before the enchantment properly set into the stone. You opened your eyes and looked up to find the king smiling down at you, Gladiolus Amicitia at his side.

“No,” you said, quickly pocketing the other stones, “not at all. I know it’s still early in the morning, but I’ve always been an early riser.”

“You should come on a morning run with me, then,” Gladiolus said. There was a playful glint to his eyes that made your heart race. “Something tells me you’d be able to keep up.”

“For you,” you blurted. Out of context. Like an idiot. The men blinked at you, and you felt the telltale burn of an embarrassed blush creeping up your neck to your face and ears. “I mean… this. It’s for you.”

Although you would swear later on that you had gently tossed the amber orb to the Shield, it was more of a panicked overhead throw. He caught it easily (thank god, you would have never lived it down if he’d missed and it had shattered), turning it over in his hands with a thoughtful look.

“Amber, right?” he asked. 

“With a minor protection charm,” you said. “It will grow warmer if someone approaches you with violent intent.”

Before Gladiolus could no doubt make some charming little quip about your gift, Noctis interrupted him. 

“If that’s the case, it’ll burn a hole in his pocket after five minutes.”

The Shield levelled a very unprofessionally threatening glare at his king as Prompto skidded around the corner, breathing heavily and looking like a scolded puppy. 

“Sorry I’m late!” he panted. “I got here as fast as I could.”

You answered him with a glare before turning to the king. “Now that my partner is here, may we get this briefing over with?”

The king’s office was bigger than your childhood home. Portraits of kings and queens past hung on the walls, although a few spots were left empty. Tall windows showed a view of Lucis that had likely once been beautiful but was now a reminder of the heavy destruction to the city. Noctis sat at a desk in front of the windows, settling into a rather oversized chair and motioning for you and Prompto to take a seat in the chairs before him. Gladiolus took up position behind Noctis and to his left, leaning against the window and crossing his arms over his chest. As the king retrieved a parchment map from one of the desk drawers and unrolled it, you observed the Shield from the corner of your eye. 

Quite frankly, you could not get a good read on Gladiolus Amicitia. On one hand, he seemed nothing more than an incorrigible flirt, every look your way teasing and tailored to get you flustered and off balance. But the precision of each smirk and hooded look was too perfect. You were beginning to get the feeling that the reason the Shield had been flirting with you so much was to get you off your guard. And if you weren’t on your guard, it would be easier for him to take you down. Not that it would be hard for him. You were a seasoned fighter, but the fact of the matter was that Gladiolus had size and strength to his advantage. Even at your best, you suspected that he would hardly break a sweat in a fight against you. With those arms, you likely wouldn’t weigh more to him than a bag of grapes.

An elbow dug painfully into your side, and you snapped out of your thoughts as Prompto gave you another jab in the ribs. You started to turn to smack him when you caught a flash of amber. Gladiolus had caught you staring. You froze. A sly grin slowly spread across his face, and he gave you a lazy wink. He shifted, and you caught the flexing of his exposed pectorals as he did so. Heat rose to your cheeks and you tore your gaze away from him. Oh, he had to be doing this on purpose.

You didn’t catch the flash of guilt on his face before it settled back into a charming smile.

“We have solid intelligence on one of the Royal Arms,” Noctis said. You turned your attention back to the king, who had spread the map out over the desk. It was beautifully illustrated in blue and black ink, creased from being folded and rolled so frequently. “Here, outside Lestallum.” He pointed to a location marked as the Greyshire Grotto. “We believe the tomb of the Wanderer is inside.”

“So I’d be looking for Swords of the Wanderer, correct?” you leaned forward, tucking hair behind your ears to study the map.

“Correct.” Noctis grinned, and you could have sworn Gladiolus looked a bit surprised. “There’s no current Niflheim presence there, either.”

“But that just means there’s daemons, doesn’t there?” Prompto asked. You let out a hum in agreement. No Niffs meant some sort of ancient magic there that they hadn’t yet found a way to twist with their small sciences. “We can handle it, but a high daemon can be even more of a hassle than a bunch of Imperials.”

“The bigger issue,” you said, “is how you plan on getting us there. The Imperials have increased the number of patrols in that region. They won’t touch Lestallum, not yet. But if you remember, I have a pretty hefty price on my head.”

“I got an idea,” Gladiolus said, pushing himself away from the window. 

“Well, why don’t you share with the class?” the king asked with a grin, chuckling as the Shield gave his shoulder a light punch and approached the desk. 

“Iris is out in Lestallum right now doing some diplomatic work.” Leaning forward, he tapped the name of the city on the map. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone out to see her, and the Niffs won’t bat an eye if they think I’m just out there to see my little sister. I can take the Regalia out there and smuggle our lady thief in with no problem.”

“Oh?” You rested your chin on your hand, giving him a lazy smile. “And how exactly do you propose to smuggle me in?”

“Easy.” He leaned towards you, eyes hooded and voice dropping an octave. “I’m sure Iris would love to meet my new consort.”

Your pulse sky rocketed, and you wondered for a moment if the earth would be so kind as to open up and swallow you whole. Gladiolus laughed at the shell-shocked expression on your face, and even the king snorted at your expense. Prompto looked ready to launch himself at the Shield. 

“Where would I fit into this?” Prompto asked. He looked furious, and you took a moment to set aside your embarrassment and take his hand. “You didn’t mention taking me.”

The king and his bodyguard shared a look that made your stomach twist into knots. Your friend gave your hand a tight squeeze. 

“That’s because you won’t be going with Lovelace,” the king finally said. He at least looked apologetic about it. “I’d like you to stay here in the Citadel and do something else for me, Prompto. We’ve had security problems, and a talented sniper would help us out immensely.”

“No.” Prompto’s voice shook, his brow pinched in rage. His grip on your hand bordered on painful. “You can’t split us up. I’m not leaving Lovey with… with him.”

“Oh, I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” The Shield had straightened up, and met Prompto’s rage with a smug grin. “Unless Lovey wants me to misbehave.”

Your friend started to move, to throw himself out of his chair, but you stood up and held him back. The blond was shaking in anger, hands curled into tight fists. You gave his arm a light tug, keeping your voice low as you spoke to him.

“Prom, it’s okay.” Slipping your grip to his wrist, you smiled when he stiffly turned his gaze to you. “It’s okay. You know I can handle myself. I’ll be fine. He’s just trying to rile you up.”

“I know.” His voice was strained, and his expression slipped from anger to something more conflicted as he spoke. “I know, it’s just… I want to be there with you.”

“I know you do.” Reaching up, you placed your hand on his cheek. He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. His skin was hot and flushed to the touch, and you brushed your thumb over the freckles on his cheekbone. “But they don’t trust us yet. That’s why they’re splitting us up. If we do this right, we can go on the next one together. Okay?”

Prompto was silent for a moment, then sighed. He placed his hand over yours, finally opening his eyes. “Okay. But if he does anything to you, I swear—”

“I’ll cut his balls off myself.” You grinned, keeping your voice low so the king and the Shield wouldn’t hear.

Prompto laughed and tried for a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The sharpshooter still looked conflicted, and moved to follow when you pulled away from him. 

“Take the day to prepare,” Noctis said. You sighed and turned back to him. He offered another of his sad, kind little smiles. “Gladiolus will provide you with the information we’ve received. It’s mostly telegrams, a few handwritten reports, and a map of the area.”

“Would you give me access to the archives as well?” You ignored the simmering tension between Gladiolus and Prompto and smoothed out your skirt. “If there are still undamaged documents detailing the area’s history, I would like to read those, too.”

“I can show you the way over there,” the Shield said. He glanced at your friend, then back at you. “Unless your little bodyguard is worried about me taking advantage of you on the way there.”

“No,” you said before Prompto could snap at him, “it’s fine.” You glared at the blond as he started to say something. “It. Is. Fine.”

Noctis cleared his throat and said something to Prompto, but you did not catch it. You had already turned and walked out the door. Gladiolus’ heavy footsteps followed behind you, and you stopped once you realized that you had no idea where you were headed. 

Luckily, the Shield let you save face. Offering his arm to you again, he motioned the other way. “It’s not too far away. I spend a lot of time in the archives, so the head librarian shouldn’t give you a hard time if he sees you with me.”

“Thank you.” You stiffly refused his arm, instead keeping a respectable distance from him as you walked in awkward silence.

“Listen…” Gladiolus sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable in there. I cross lines sometimes without realizing it.”

“I’m not sure that I’m really the one you should be apologizing to.” You refused to look at him. If you did, you knew he’d find some way to charm you out of your anger. “Men have said much cruder things about me. But using me to make my friend angry was very much crossing a line.”

“He’s just your friend then?”

That made you whip your head around to look at him. Gladiolus had his eyes to the ground, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. His brow was furrowed in something almost like anger, but not quite. 

“Of course he is.” Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat before continuing. “Prompto is like a brother to me. We’ve been friends and partners for 14 years, Amicitia. My affection for him is purely platonic. He’s just always been more of a physical person with his own affection, and it rubbed off on me.”

“You might wanna tell him that.” The Shield still had his eyes lowered, but his face had eased into something less pinched. In fact, he looked like he was holding back a smile.  
“I’ve no idea what you mean by that,” you snapped. “I’m just a friend to him as well. If he cared for me as more than that, I would have noticed by now.”

“I’m sure you would have.” Gladiolus finally looked back up at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Instead of moving forward, he stepped closer to you instead. You backed away until he had you up against the wall. Your heart leapt into your throat as he bent close to you. The musky scent of his aftershave had you feeling a bit dizzy, and you swallowed hard when he rested a hand on the wall by your head. “So when a man approaches you like this, do you think it’s platonic?”

Six preserve you, you felt like your face was going to burst into flame. You couldn’t look him in the eye. Not when he was so close, you could feel his breath fan over your face. Your gaze went to his chest instead, and you wished you’d kept your eyes on his face. That damned shirt of his was mostly unbuttoned again, and you could see the beginnings of a tattoo in dark ink just under his collarbone. 

“I… well, I’m not an idiot, Amicitia.” Your voice shook, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Damn him. Damn him and his overwhelming presence. 

“I know you aren’t.” His voice was low, rumbling into your ear. A shiver went down your spine, and you bit your lip to keep from whimpering. “But it seems the lady thief is oblivious when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“That is none of your business,” you said. You were trying to keep your voice even, but the situation was simply too much. “I… I would appreciate it if you gave me some space.”

And just like that, Gladiolus Amicitia backed away. You pressed a hand to your chest, where Ifrit’s pendant seemed to be burning against your skin. Heart hammering against your ribs, you took several deep breaths to calm yourself. When you opened your eyes, the Shield had backed away to the other side of the hall. He almost looked sheepish, eyes downcast. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Keep crossing that line, don’t I?”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t, really. You were still trying to puzzle out the past few seconds, wondering what the hell kind of game the king’s Shield was trying to play with you. Was he trying to seduce you in an effort to get information? Did he think emotionally compromising you would make you less of a threat? Regardless, he jerked his thumb at a set of doors just a few steps away.

“Archive is in there.” He took another step back, still not looking at you. “I’ll go get those documents for you.”

Turning on his heel, the Shield walked away from you. But his hulking form was a bit slumped, dejected. Thoroughly confused, you watched him leave before pushing open the doors to the archive.

The librarian didn’t even notice you as you slipped inside the archives, too busy with sorting out a stack of books. He also looked to be well into his later years, so you wouldn’t have been surprised if he simply hadn’t heard you. Keeping your steps soft, you slipped past the entrance and seating area into the stacks. Each shelf towered over you, filled with old tomes that smelled of faded leather and dust. Entranced, you reached out and skimmed your fingers over the spines. The covers were soft, worn from age and use. Still letting your fingertips brush against the covers, you walked down the shelves until you found the section you needed: folklore and history of Lestallum. Selecting a few basic overviews of the area to start, you winced at the creaking of their spines as you opened them. You made a mental note to mention rebinding some of the books in the archives to Noctis the next time you saw him before hunting for a reading nook. 

Several minutes later, you had settled into a nook by an abandoned section of the library. The sill of the window was large enough for you to curl up on, and you had snatched a few cushions from scattered chairs to pad the area. Sufficiently cozy in your self-made nest, you picked up a book on local legends in Duscae and began to read. Minutes turned to hours, and as you skimmed a passage about a monstrous snake rumored to haunt the grotto, your eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. You rested them for a moment.

When you opened your eyes again, it was dark out. A lantern had been placed near your little nook, and the cramp in your back and neck said that what was supposed to be a brief rest had turned into a very long nap. Groaning, you stretched your arms above your head to work out the kinks in your cramped limbs. The book fell from your lap, and you sighed before reaching for it. Just as your fingers brushed the cover, you caught sight of someone out of the corner of your eye and froze.

Gladiolus Amicitia was seated against the shelves across from you, head dipped and posture slack. The steady rise and fall of his chest gave away his slumber, and you took a moment to simply look at him. The Shield of the King was a physically imposing man, with his tall stature, large muscles, and jagged facial scars. But in the moment, sleeping soundly in the archives, he looked… softer somehow. At peace, his guard lowered. He did not snore, his breaths soft and steady. His eyelashes fluttered for a moment, and you realized he was dreaming. 

Retrieving your book, you bookmarked the page you had been on before standing. Your legs wobbled for a moment, and you stifled a curse. Honestly, taking naps out in the open was not your style. Crossing over to him once you had gotten your bearings, you crouched down in front of the sleeping man. He did not even twitch. Reaching forward, you gently brushed a few stray locks of dark hair from his face. Gladiolus stirred for a moment, mumbling under his breath, and you froze. But then he settled back down, and you sighed in relief. There was something terribly appealing about seeing him like this. There was no bluster, no fake charm and pushing your boundaries. Just his handsome face, soft and open. You smiled and stood back up. 

The promised documents were stacked neatly next to him, a rolled-up map sitting next to neatly labeled folders of field reports and telegrams bundled together and tied with packing string. Keeping your movements silent and slow, you picked them up and paused when you saw something in his slack hand.

The amber sphere you had enchanted for him rested in his palm, colors flickering with the light of the lantern. Curious, you reached out and ghosted your fingers over the surface. It was cool to the touch, warmed only by contact with his skin. You drew back, heaving a sigh.

Perhaps Gladiolus Amicitia’s little games were actually working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaaaah, Gladio's route is definitely not slowburn. I will give prior warning: there will be some examination of unhealthy relationship dynamics in this route. I do think that Gladio is a good man with a good heart deep down but man... he is not good at dealing with feelings. Thank you for your wonderful, sweet comments and kudos. I'm so glad you're all enjoying my silly little story.
> 
> Next Time:
> 
> Gladio is Still a Master Flirt, Reader/Protag is an Awkward Mess, Feelings are Hard, Iris Knows What's Up, Action Ensues, Gladio Just Keeps Crossing Lines


	5. The Last Romance- Chapter 1: The Last Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _They will try and keep you_   
>  _But you're still mine_   
>  _And I love you, and you're strong dear_   
>  _And we're fine_   
>  _So, remember when the time comes_   
>  _When it's over and it's all done_   
>  _Meet me in the North, by the edge of the Sun_

A quarter to eight the next morning found you sitting on the floor outside of the king’s office, picking through a selection of stones that you had managed to… liberate from a shop in Lestallum. Despite your exhaustion, old habits died hard, and you had woken up before sunrise cursing yourself. Even after a long and indulgent bath (you had tried at least three different bath oils and were certain people could smell you coming down the hall), a good chunk of time getting lost on the way to the kitchens, and a hearty breakfast, you had arrived earlier than the king. There had been rumors that Noctis was very fond of sleeping, which now carried just a little bit more weight to them.

Honestly, though, you couldn’t complain. You had been itching to examine the stones ever since you had slipped them into your pocket a few days before. They were polished and gleaming, all of them shaped into perfect little orbs that fit in the palm of your hand. They would hold an enchantment well. You just needed to decide which one was your favorite. There was malachite, with its beautiful swirls of soft and dark greens, smooth and cold against your fingertips. Moonstone, with its shimmering pale blues and whites, reflecting the sun in soft shades against your skin. Gleaming, dark amber with just a few flecks of shadow, heavier than the others. And azurite, such a beautiful deep blue with waves of baby blue and dark green across its surface. There were others, of course. Bloodstone and lapis lazuli and fire agate and even your favorite, rhodochrosite. But those four fit the best in your hands, were the smoothest to your touch. You placed them on the floor before you, studying them. 

You thought of the stars, of the king’s deep voice and sad eyes. The azurite was smooth in your hand, the deepest blues similar to Noctis’ shadowed gaze. You had thought of the king for most of the morning, pondered the tragic tilt to his smile and the way he had stiffened under your touch. Truthfully, you felt guilty for the gesture. You told yourself that any other wayward thoughts were simply concern for him. Over the course of five years, the young king had endured enough loss for several lifetimes. His father, his home, his bride-to-be, his youth, all taken from him too early. You took a deep breath, and channeled that sadness, that guilt, that worry into your magic and let it sink into the azurite.

“Have you been waiting long?”

Startled, you nearly dropped the stone, magic sputtering for a moment before the enchantment properly set into the stone. You opened your eyes and looked up to find the king smiling down at you.

“No,” you said, quickly pocketing the other stones, “not at all. I know it’s still early in the morning, but I’ve always been an early riser.”

His gaze dropped to the azurite you cradled in your hands as you stood, a dark brow arching in curiosity.

“I didn’t know you liked stones,” he said. “It’s pretty.”

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you stepped forward and took his hand. This time, he did not flinch away. Before your bravery could run out, you placed the orb in his hand and closed his fingers around it. His hand was larger than yours, warm, and you felt old callouses as your fingers brushed against his. Ducking your head to hide your embarrassment, you stepped back.

“It’s azurite,” you mumbled, “one of my favorites. It holds enchantments easily. This one has a comfort charm in it. If you ever need cheering up, just hold it in your hand and it should help you think of memories that bring you joy.”

Silence hung in the hall, and you briefly contemplated throwing yourself out the window. But then you felt Noctis gently touch your hand. You looked up, and your heart leapt to your throat as he smiled at you. It was a sad, lonely thing, but grateful too. Like he was trying hard to look happy for you but couldn’t quite manage it.

At five to eight in the morning, Noctis broke your heart for the first time.

Before you could find the right words to say, Prompto skidded around the corner, breathing heavily and looking like a scolded puppy. 

“Sorry I’m late!” he panted. “I got here as fast as I could.”

You answered him with a glare before turning to the king. “Now that my partner is here, may we get this briefing over with?”

The king’s office was bigger than your childhood home. Portraits of kings and queens past hung on the walls, although a few spots were left empty. Tall windows showed a view of Lucis that had likely once been beautiful but was now a reminder of the heavy destruction to the city. Noctis sat at a desk in front of the windows, settling into a rather oversized chair and motioning for you and Prompto to take a seat in the chairs before him. As the king retrieved a parchment map from one of the desk drawers and unrolled it, you observed him from the corner of your eye. 

There was something about Noctis Lucis Caelum that resonated with you. Maybe it was the smile that never quite reached his eyes, or the slump of his shoulders that suggested he carried the weight of the world on them. Whatever it was, you felt an odd and immediate kinship with him. The king had lost so much so young, and you would not begin to measure your own loss to his own, but you had lost many precious people as well. It probably helped that he was attractive, too. Photographs of the new king of Lucis had graced the front of many newspapers when he took back his kingdom a year before. Many young women had dreamed of marrying the handsome, tragic king, although all of them knew it was only a fantasy. Noctis had loved the Oracle, as clear as day. It was after her assassination that he had truly stepped up his battle against Niflheim. You wondered if he still mourned her, if all of his heart still belonged to her. Not that you would blame him; Lady Lunafreya had been beloved to many, yourself included. Your devotion to her had not been romantic and had been from a distance, but the news of her death had still stung. And yet the thought of his heart belonging to another made you feel strange, like a fist held your heart in a vice grip. 

An elbow dug painfully into your side, and you snapped out of your thoughts as Prompto gave you another jab in the ribs. You started to turn to smack him when you caught a glimmer of midnight blue. Noctis had caught you staring. You froze. Was it a crime to stare at the king for too long? You knew that other kingdoms probably would have considered it punishable by death. Or maybe you simply looked foolish. Flushing in embarrassment, you dropped your gaze to the floor and hoped he wouldn’t think you crass.  
You did not catch the thoughtful look on his face as he watched you for a moment longer, then cleared his throat and got back to business.

“We have solid intelligence on one of the Royal Arms,” Noctis said. You turned your attention back to the king, who had spread the map out over the desk. It was beautifully illustrated in blue and black ink, creased from being folded and rolled so frequently. “Here, outside Lestallum.” He pointed to a location marked as the Greyshire Grotto. “We believe the tomb of the Wanderer is inside.”

“So I’d be looking for Swords of the Wanderer, correct?” you leaned forward, tucking hair behind your ears to study the map.

“Correct.” Noctis grinned. “There’s no current Niflheim presence there, either.”

“But that just means there’s daemons, doesn’t there?” Prompto asked. You let out a hum in agreement. No Niffs meant some sort of ancient magic there that they hadn’t yet found a way to twist with their small sciences. “We can handle it, but a high daemon can be even more of a hassle than a bunch of Imperials.”

“The bigger issue,” you said, “is how you plan on getting us there. The Imperials have increased the number of patrols in that region. They won’t touch Lestallum, not yet. But if you remember, I have a pretty hefty price on my head.”

“I have a plan,” Noctis said, “that Ignis and Gladilous are going to hate. But I think it may work out the best for all of us.”

“Oh?” Now this was an idea that you could get behind. You leaned forward, a sly grin growing. “Tell me more.”

“Right now, Niflheim and Lucis are in a bit of a deadlock. We have some ongoing border skirmishes around Galahd, but otherwise we aren’t really openly aggressive to each other. My taking back Lucis threw them off their game, and High Commander Ravus going turn coat has hurt their forces significantly.” Noctis folded his hands on his desk. “The few journeys I’ve had to Lestallum and back have been relatively peaceful. Attacking me on my way to a city loyal to Lucis in what is technically a neutral zone would start a new wave of aggression that they simply don’t have the forces for right now.”

“So you’re untouchable right now,” you said. “At least in Duscae.”

“Essentially, yes,” he said. “I still have to be careful where I travel so they couldn’t simply make me mysteriously disappear. But if I travelled with you and Prompto in the Regalia, they wouldn’t be able to touch you.”

You considered that line of thought for a moment, tangling your fingers together and frowning at the map. “But declaring that I’m under your protection could also piss them off,” you said.

“Oh it would definitely piss them off.” He sat back in his chair, a wicked glint in his eyes. “But refusing them the right to arrest you would be worth it. It’s a power play, and one that Ignis is going to hate. In the end, I think it will be worth it.”

“They could send assassins for you after that,” Prompto said. He rubbed his hands together, brow pinched in thought. “Niflheim has stumbled a bit power-wise, but they still have agents everywhere.”

“I can handle an assassin,” the king said. “I’ve been handling them, actually. Gladiolus wanted me to split the two of you up and keep Prompto here with me so that he could take out any more Niflheim agents.”

“But you aren’t going to split us up… right?” The color had drained from Prompto’s face.. “I have to be there with Lovey. I can’t…” He trailed off, staring down at your fingers laced in his. “I can’t lose her.”

“What do you mean, you’ve been handling assassins?” You ignored your friend’s sudden confession, ripping your hand from his. “How many attempts have there been on your life?”

“That doesn’t really matter,” Noctis said. He had thrown an odd look at Prompto before turning back to you. “What matters is—”

“Nothing matters more than your survival.” Your voice came out louder than you’d meant it to. But you couldn’t back down now. “You are the last in the line of the kings of Lucis, Your Majesty. You are also the last hope many of us have in stopping the Niflheim Empire. If you die, then none of this will mean anything.”

Noctis stared at you, eyes wide. From the corner of your eye, you noted that Prompto was mirroring his expression perfectly. You had just scolded the king of Lucis like a child. Mortified, you slumped in your chair and prayed that Ramuh would send down a bolt of lightning to kill you on the spot. But much to your surprise, the king did not order you out of his office.

Instead, he laughed. Your head whipped up at the sound, surprised. It wasn’t the half-hearted sound you had heard the night before. The king’s laughter now was loud and genuine, eyes closed as he leaned back in his chair and let the roaring laughter die into a chuckle.

“I apologize,” he finally said once he had collected himself. “You just sounded so much like Ignis then.”

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment,” you muttered, although it felt a bit more like an insult to you.

“It’s one of the best compliments you can receive,” the king said. “But my point still stands. Assassins can be handled. I’ll travel with the two of you tomorrow before sunrise. We have a better chance of not being caught if we leave in the earliest hours of the morning. Take the day to prepare. I’ll have one of my Kingsglaive deliver you information we’ve received. It’s mostly telegrams, a few handwritten reports, and a map of the area.”

“Would you give me access to the archives as well?” You smoothed out your skirt, still puzzling out his motives. “If there are still undamaged documents detailing the area’s history, I would like to read those, too.”

“Here.” The king reached into a drawer at his desk and handed you a small map of the citadel. The detail on it was overwhelming, and you knew that you would be carrying it around everywhere with you while you weren’t out on an assignment. “This should help you navigate your way there. If the librarian there gives you any trouble, just let him know that you’re there with my permission.”

“Thank you, Majesty.” You curtsied, and noticed Prompto bowing from the corner of your eye as well.

“Please,” he said, “just call me Noctis.”

“I… um. Very well, Your—I mean, King Noctis.” You were flustered at the informality, not quite comfortable with it. Prompto’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. “Shall we meet you here before the sun rises?”

The king nodded, and with another quick curtsy you exited the room. Prompto followed at your heels, shoulders tense and lips twisted into a frown. 

“Hey Lovey,” he finally said after a moment. “I’ll meet you in the morning, okay? I have some… things I want to take care of.”

“Okay,” you said. You were still dazed by the king’s request that you call him by his given name. What could that mean? It was incredibly disrespectful, but… saying his name had felt easy. Natural, even. You did not notice your friend’s own conflicted feelings about it. “Just don’t sleep through your alarm again.”

Prompto did not respond. He simply sighed and turned on his heel, heading back towards his rooms. In a trance-like state, you managed to find your way to the archives with the help of the map Noctis had given you. You had nearly run into a few pillars on the way, however. Distracted was not a good look on you.

The librarian didn’t even notice you as you slipped inside the archives, too busy with sorting out a stack of books. He also looked to be well into his later years, so you wouldn’t have been surprised if he simply hadn’t heard you. Keeping your steps soft, you slipped past the entrance and seating area into the stacks. Each shelf towered over you, filled with old tomes that smelled of faded leather and dust. Entranced, you reached out and skimmed your fingers over the spines. The covers were soft, worn from age and use. Still letting your fingertips brush against the covers, you walked down the shelves until you found the section you needed: folklore and history of Lestallum. Selecting a few basic overviews of the area to start, you winced at the creaking of their spines as you opened them. You made a mental note to mention rebinding some of the books in the archives to Noctis the next time you saw him before hunting for a reading nook. 

Several minutes later, you had settled into a nook by an abandoned section of the library. The sill of the window was large enough for you to curl up on, and you had snatched a few cushions from scattered chairs to pad the area. Sufficiently cozy in your self-made nest, you picked up a book on local legends in Duscae and began to read. Minutes turned to hours, and as you skimmed a passage about a monstrous snake rumored to haunt the grotto, your eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. But you could not allow yourself to fall asleep. You slapped your cheeks, grumbling to yourself. 

You were a professional. There was no way you were going to fall asleep in an unguarded, open area. If it was true that there were assassins in the citadel, taking a nap in the archives could very well have been a death sentence. Rubbing at your eyes and stretching out your limbs, you stood up and paced back and forth as you continued reading. If you kept moving, you doubted you would be in danger of falling asleep again. 

Near the end of the chapters you had been studying, a man in a Kingsglaive uniform found you. Few words were exchanged as he delivered the promised documents to you and left. Books and other materials bundled in your arms, you wandered the stacks until you found a study area to seat yourself in. Electric lanterns on the end of the tables cast soft, warm light, and you could not help but find it comforting as you opened the first of the neatly labeled folders. The map and the telegrams could wait. Field reports would give you the best understanding of terrain and layout. Anything that happened to live inside of the Grotto would have to be dealt with as the situation evolved.

Before you knew it, you had gone through all of the field reports and your eyes burned from the strain of keeping them open. You sighed and set everything aside, running your hands over your face. Night had fallen outside, and you knew that if you were going to get adequate rest for your mission, you needed to head back to your rooms to sleep. The halls were empty as you made your journey back to your rooms, steps echoing in the cavernous space. You paused when you noticed the door to the king’s office was ajar.  
Thankfully, you did not walk in to find the king dead in a pool of his own blood. Instead, he was slumped over his desk, head pillowed on his arms and fast asleep. Documents were scattered haphazardly across the desk, ink staining the tips of his fingers. You watched his back rise and fall in steady, slow breaths, the corner of a page near his head fluttering with each exhale. Noctis looked peaceful in his sleep. Untroubled, untouched by the burdens of being king and fighting a war even his ancestors had not been able to win. His long, dark eyelashes fluttered against the pale skin of his cheek, a soft sigh escaping his lips. 

Ifrit’s pendant burned against your chest as you watched him. You winced, reaching up to gingerly touch it where it rested beneath your blouse. The longer your gaze lingered on the king, the hotter it burned until you felt sure that it was branding the skin just over your heart. Ignoring the pain, you stepped closer to him. Your footsteps seemed loud in the quiet room, but still did not seem to disturb him. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you reached out to brush soft, dark hair away from his face. 

“Noctis,” you whispered. It felt beautiful, the way his name rolled off your tongue. “Noctis, wake up.”

The king did not stir. You sighed, still gently combing his hair back from his face. If this was what Ignis went through every day with the king, you had to sympathize with the man. Nothing was more frustrating than a heavy sleeper. Brushing your fingers over his cheek and down to his jaw, you decided to grow bolder. You leaned down, lips close to brushing his ear as you spoke. 

“It’s time to wake up now, Noctis,” you said, voice soft. He shivered, and you stroked the sharp line of his jaw with your fingertips. “It’s not safe to sleep here.”

Finally, he stirred. You knew that you should have drawn back immediately. Being so close to him, touching him so intimately, was not a position that you wanted to be caught in. But you were slow to straighten up, touch lingering at the nape of his neck. Noctis’ eyelids fluttered, voice rough as he slowly emerged from the depths of sleep.

He said your name. Not the alias you were using, not the aliases you had used before. Your true name. You stiffened in panic and confusion as he repeated the words again. How did he know? It wasn’t possible. No mortal knew your true name. Not even Prompto, who had been with you before the bargain. That name had been erased, destroyed so many years ago. And yet it sounded so right as the king spoke it. The sweetest of dangers, the unknowable coming so easily to his subconscious. His eyes fluttered open, but you were already running from the room.

Your heart pounded in a panicked, jackhammer rhythm as you fled down the dark halls of the citadel, your true name echoing over and over again in your head. You did not stop running until you reached your rooms, knees giving out as you locked the door, cradled your head in your hands, and sobbed.

There was no greater cruelty than the false hope of using that name once again. But even as you stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep and haunted by the consequences of Noctis holding that knowledge, you could not bring your self to hate him for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that one route in otome games where all the secrets are revealed, the story finally makes total sense, everything hurts and nothing is okay? Yeah, that's Noct's route. There will be a lot of sadness in this, and some discussion of things that could potentially be triggering. I'll put warnings at beginnings of chapters that I feel could be upsetting or triggering for readers. Thank you all again for your wonderful comments and kudos. I'm glad you're enjoying my silly little story.
> 
> Next Time:
> 
> Ifrit Makes an Appearance, Noctis is Still Sad, Reader/Protag Catches a Bad Case of the Feels, Action Ensues, Maybe There is More to the Chosen King Than You Thought


	6. Interlude: Hey Look Ma, I Made It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _in the garden of evil,_   
>  _i'm gonna be the greatest_   
>  _in a golden cathedral,_   
>  _i'll be praying for the faithless_

The grave sits on the outskirts of Tenebrae, hidden away in the depths of a forest. It only has one visitor, one person who can make sense of the signs leading to it. A red ribbon tied around a branch, a knife buried in the stump of a tree felled by lightning, a veil carefully hung among a mass of vines. Small mementos easily overlooked by others, but not by the one remaining person who knows of the grave, and of the person who was laid to rest there.

The young woman has not come to visit in years. She has changed much during that time, her hair cropped short and new scars marring her smooth skin. Although she had inherited her father’s light Lucian hair and sunfreckled skin, her eyes are her mother’s: sharp, dark, and undoubtedly Galahdan. Sitting on the overgrown grass, she brushes moss from the gravestone. It is mostly unmarked, as she had been too young to make proper engravings. But she had managed to make one marking: a sylleblossom, her mother’s favorite flower. She had brought a bouquet of them with her, resting them before the grave. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you in so long,” the young woman finally says. Her voice is muffled by the greenery, and she has no fear of anyone overhearing. “A lot has happened since you left us. Since dad left us, too. I’m… I’m sorry I left you alone after that.”

A pause, a shaking breath. The young woman closes her eyes, taking the time needed to keep herself from crying.

“You know, he wanted to make you so proud. He tried to discourage me from going down the same path as him, but… But I knew you wanted me to be more like him. You always said that I was my father’s daughter. I don’t think you always meant that as a compliment, though.” She laughs, although there is no joy in the sound. “He taught me a little bit of magic. Nothing big. I was never as talented with it as you were. But I picked up enough to become the best at what I do.”

Sunlight filters in through the canopy of leaves, making it mottled and leaving large patches of shadow. The young woman shifts with the sunlight, staying in the shadows. It is where she belongs, now. The light shines on the grave, and she smiles.

“Dad brought me a friend, too. It wasn’t long after… after you died. I was so lonely, so sad. I wouldn’t leave my room. He was worried, but… well, you know how he was. He was so bad with words. Even worse than me, sometimes.” She hugs her knees to her chest, looks up to the deep blue of the sky. “He brought me the best friend I ever could have asked for. When dad had to leave, he stayed by my side. He looks out for me, cheers me up whenever I’m down. He even knows when I can’t say things right and understands what I really mean. I think maybe the Astrals blessed me with him. A blessing I don’t really deserve. But I thank them for him every day. I think that you would have really loved him.”

The young woman falls silent for a time, simply watching the sky. The trees rustle around her, stirred by the breeze. She thinks that perhaps it is the spirit speaking back to her, whispering through the wind and the leaves. The wind kissing her skin is the only touch the spirit can give her now, and she closes her eyes once again. When she speaks, her voice is strained.

“You thought that this path would be difficult for me, that it would only lead to bad things, but… But I’ve worked so hard. You worked in the light, but I’ve always operated better in the shadows. And it suits me. I can’t imagine doing anything else. I’ve traded so many things, made so many bargains to get to where I am now. And dad…” Silence, a forced clearing of her throat. “His death made everything fall apart. I didn’t know what to do for so long. I let grief swallow me up. I even pushed away my precious friend. But I found my way back onto that path. A god came to me, and I made a deal with him. I think that maybe you wouldn’t agree with the way I went about things, but he’s given me the power I need to continue down this path. I’m the best at what I do. People know the name I’ve chosen for myself. I have to hide my face, obviously, but… I use your old mask. I keep you alive with that.”

Standing up, she moves to the grave, brushes her fingers over the sun-warmed granite. She imagines the warm arms that used to cradle her, the soft voice that had taught her so many things and guided her down this path.

“Mom…” She lets the tears fall now, although they taste more sweet than bitter. “I made it, mom. I’m going to destroy the people who took you away from me. The people who took dad away, too. Maybe he’s up there with you, listening to me. Maybe he’s there to comfort you. But I want you to know that I’ve made it, and everything is going exactly according to plan. Sometimes it feels a bit like a dream but… But if it is, I don’t want to wake up.” She laughs, wipes at her face with her sleeves. “Six, I probably look foolish. But I wanted to come see you again. One last time. So you don’t have to worry about me.”

The young woman steps back, smiles as a breeze carries off a few petals from the sylleblossoms. 

“Once everything is done, I’ll go to Galahd. I’ll make sure to live out your dreams, too. I still have your old deck, and it still gives the best readings. But I have to do this, first. Rest easy, mom. The Niffs won’t know what hit them. I’ll do you proud. And I love you. I just… needed to see you one last time. One last time before I gamble it all.”

“Lovelace!” A clear voice cuts through the trees. Her friend is here for her. 

“It’s time.” She bends down, presses her forehead to the grave. “Thanks, mom.”

With one last smile, the young woman who had abandoned her name turns from the grave of her mother and walks through the forest to the destiny awaiting her in the kingdom of Lucis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a while since the last update, hasn't it? The past month has been a bit crazy, so I'm sorry for the long time between updates. I'm working on the next few proper route chapters, but I wanted to give y'all a small update while I work on completing those. I do plan on doing a few Interludes here and there, and the new Panic! at the Disco album has me Feeling Things about the protag. So this happened.
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos! I can't believe this fic has already almost gotten 400 hits... Thank you all so much for your support. I should hopefully be back with full updates within the week.


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